


Not the End

by b_ofdale



Category: The Raven (2012)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 11:50:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11356923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_ofdale/pseuds/b_ofdale
Summary: She stops by the door, fingers around the doorknob when she hears it. As the nurse had said, there's someone in the room already, and Emily can hear his voice, hushed and almost trembling. She's heard that voice before, but not like this—she's heard it strong, and confident, and commanding.Today, it’s none of those things.





	Not the End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnsmoore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnsmoore/gifts).



> I'm starting a new ship tag (five years after the movie came out haha,) this is a big day in my fanfiction writer's life. It's more a canoe than a ship, though. :p
> 
> You're all welcomed on [Liz](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gastonsbiceps) and I's canoe, it's small but comfortable, and overflowing with denial.
> 
> THIS IS FOR YOU LIZ, PLEASE ACCEPT THIS APOLOGY FOR GETTING YOU INTO THIS WITHOUT TELLING YOU JOHN DIDN'T MAKE IT

“I'd like to see Officer John Cantrell?” 

“Room 63 on the second floor, my lady,” the nurse says. “There's already someone with him.”

Emily gives a short bow of her head in thanks, before heading upstairs. There's a book and a bouquet of flowers in her hands, insignificant gifts for a man who almost gave his life when trying to find and save her—hurt, by the same man who had hurt her.

She couldn't even conceive not visiting him; not thanking him for what he'd done.

She stops by the door, fingers around the doorknob when she hears it. As the nurse had said, there's someone in the room already, and Emily can hear his voice, hushed and almost trembling. She's heard that voice before, but not like this—she's heard it strong, and confident, and commanding. 

Today, it’s none of those things.

Quietly, Emily opens the door, just enough to peek inside it. She means to make her presence known, but the words fade on her tongue at what she sees.

Detective Emmett Fields is sat by the bed on which Officer Cantrell lies, bandages around his neck which makes Emily’s stomach churn, the weakness visible all over his features. He's sleeping—Emily doesn't know whether he's even woken up yet. 

It’s looking at Fields that gives her the answer; there are dark circles under his eyes, and his face is marked with another kind of pain whenever his shoulder trembles. His own injury must not be healing fast, but he doesn’t seem to care.

It's been close to two weeks since Emily was saved. Barely a few days since Fields came back from France, justice now done.

They say Reynolds had no chance, that Fields shot him before he could try anything against him. One move, and he was dead. It had been self-defense, of course, and yet, all knew that death could have been avoided until a fair trial had been given, where, without doubt, death would have been the sentence all the same. 

Emily hadn't thought of Fields to be the kind of man to pull the trigger so easily, but then, had she ever truly known him?

But, as she looks at him now in this sad, bleak hospital room, she understands.

He's sitting there on that uncomfortable hard chair, hands gripping Officer Cantrell’s like his life hangs in the balance. Sometimes, one of his hands leaves its anchor to wipe the sweat off of Cantrell’s face, tucking a strand of hair away from his forehead, caressing his cheek. 

He almost lost the same thing that Emily saw taken from her.

“I’m sorry, John,” Fields says, his voice rough, though Emily knows that there is nothing he should be sorry for. “Can you forgive me?” 

The scene is so fragile, so intimate that Emily’s heart constricts in her chest. This is not hers to see. 

She means to take a step back, to come back another day when Fields doesn’t look so down—for she doubts, now that he’s returned home, that he will ever leave Officer Cantrell’s bedside. But the floor creaks, and as Fields’ head shoots up and his eyes, wide at the realization that she’s seen it all, meet hers, she finds nothing to do but to step inside the room, her expression apologetic. 

“Miss Hamilton.” Detective Fields stands, his hands letting go of Officer Cantrell as he clasps them behind his back. All of the raw emotion that had been on his face disappears under a cloak of seriousness, but he glances over at his companion, as though he's afraid that he’ll disappear if he doesn't either hold him, or watch over him. “I—this isn’t—”

“It's alright, Mr. Fields,” Emily says as she walks towards the other side of the bed before putting the book and the bouquet of flowers onto the bedside table. 

Confusion flashes over his face, his eyes searching Emily’s when she looks back his way. He seems wary, unsure, and perhaps, even a little scared.

So, she holds his gaze, the soft smile on her lips unfaltering. Who is she to judge whatever there is between two people, who the world doesn’t want to see together? 

Fields suddenly seems more vulnerable, and she can see in him the years of hiding and pretending. He lets out a shaky breath as he gives a nod of his head, before sitting back down and promptly grasping Cantrell’s hand again in both of his own. 

Emily turns from him to go close the door and lock it, and when she turns back, the smile on her lips widens, for Cantrell has opened his eyes. Already, he’s holding as tight as he can onto Fields’ fingers. 

There's a gleam in Fields’ eyes as he raises Cantrell’s hand to his lips, leaving a kiss upon his knuckles, his mouth forming a smile of his own for the first time in a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> If that girl from Hannibal can survive a throat slit, so can John okay
> 
> If I get even two kudos on this I'll consider it a miracle. :p 
> 
> It's just a little thing, but I hope you liked it! Let me know if you did, it would make my day!


End file.
